


Addicted to Bad Ideas

by lobsterMatriarch



Series: Stories From Under The Sink [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Ideas, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Established Relationship, Hancock has a bad time, Multi, Other, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27517843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lobsterMatriarch/pseuds/lobsterMatriarch
Summary: He was vicious, he was lethal, and he wasn’t about to let the people he cared about keep running off and getting hurt while he sat on ass waiting to lose his goddamn mind.AKA Hancock is not known for making good decisions, but he really tries his best.
Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor, John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, John Hancock/Nick Valentine, John Hancock/Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine
Series: Stories From Under The Sink [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/530215
Comments: 20
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if anyone else noticed, but it's been a weird fucking time. What better time to drag this series out of the grave?

It wasn’t so bad, being back on the bench. Nora, god love her, she was some kinda force of nature and as much as Hancock enjoyed watching her work, his stamina wasn’t always up to the challenge. She could look out for herself, and even if she couldn’t Nick could look after her. They could look after each other. Nothing to worry about.

Hancock took another hit from his inhaler, holding the acrid spray in his lungs as long as he could before letting his breath hiss out through his teeth. Sure, Nick and Nora had a habit of getting themselves roughed up on the road. Sure, Nick needed some repairs after their last outing. But he’d been fine. He just laughed it off like he always did, tightened a few loose screws, and told Hancock to relax.

Time was barely moving for him at this point, and he watched with mild curiosity as a bloodbug inched past him at a snail’s pace. Hancock was a master of relaxing. He picked off the bloodbug with a lazy shot from the hip.

At some point he’d have to get off his ass and let Preston know that the Starlight Drive-In was fine. He’d dealt with their super mutant problem days ago, or at least he tried to. It wasn’t ideal. There were a lot of the ugly bastards, they took out the turrets quick, and he was just one ghoul with a gun.

 _You can’t save everyone,_ he tried to remind himself, tried to block the image of the dead settler from his mind. _They’d be dead to the last man if you hadn’t showed up._

Hancock took another long, drawn out hit. His brain was still working too well.

_Just talk to Preston. He’ll have something else for you to do. Just get up and try again._

Hancock liked working with the local settlers when he could, and wiping the floor with the scum of the ‘Wealth was a good way for him to keep his head on straight. He liked being useful, and he knew that it would be one less thing for Nora to hear about when she got back. But with both Nick and Nora gone this long and his last job going tits up, even the promise of righteous bloodshed lost some of its shine.

For now, maybe it would be better if he just stuck it out where he was. Sitting in Sanctuary, right on this outpost, looking out over the river. Waiting.

Waiting.

Just one more hit and another bottle of wine. Nothing to worry about.

* * *

Hancock left the radio on all night, just like he had the night before, and the night before that. The music kept him company. It made his high more pleasant, made the sun rising in the sky feel just a little bit warmer. More than that, it reminded him of Nora and Nick. Nora would always hum to herself whether the radio was on or not, and Nick’s lips would turn up just a bit at the first few notes of a song he liked. Hancock remembered the way they danced together, hand in hand, round and round like the stars in those pre-war movies. Nora promised that she would teach him someday, when all of them had the time and safety to relax.

Hancock was just about to doze off when he felt the nudge of a wet nose under his hand. He nearly jumped out of whatever skin he had left.

“C’mon, pooch,” he growled. “You know you can’t do me like that.”

Dogmeat whined, settling at Hancock’s feet with his tail thumping against the wooden floorboards. Hancock groaned, slapping his face to wake himself up and using what felt like every muscle in his body to pull himself over the edge of the outpost. Dogmeat, angel that he was, settled himself under Hancock’s arm to help hold him up.

There was something moving along the horizon.

“Good boy!” Hancock was already stumbling to his feet, tripping over his ammo bag in his hurry to get down and across the river. He thanked his ghoulish metabolism as he moved from a stumbling walk to a sprint, his head clearing with every cold breath of morning air. His vision was still somewhat cloudy around the edges, but he could just barely make out the outline of two figures by the Red Rocket. One leaning just a little too much on the other.

Hancock sped up, seeing Nora dragging her feet and Nick’s arm around her waist. She was slumped, shaking, oh fuck, oh _fuck—_

“Don’t worry, she’ll be okay.” Nick said, and Hancock wasn’t sure if he wanted to deck him or kiss him. “We wandered a little too close to a cryo mine and we’re all out of stims. Get her some supplies and a hot coffee and she’ll be good as new.”

Nora forced a smile as best she could, all shivers and blue lips with ice crystals still melting in her hair. A bandage near her hairline had bloomed red. At some point Nick had wrapped his jacket around her, and she clung to it like a lifeline.

Hancock forced a smile in return, keeping steady even as his heart threatened to bludgeon its way out of his chest. “Did you really miss bein’ on ice that much?”

Nora snorted and immediately regretted it, loosing a series of sneezes one right after the other. Hancock took hold of her other shoulder and leaned into her, offering as much of his body heat as he could. He took her hand and the stim from his pocket, and even though she was most likely numb from head to toe Hancock still tried to be gentle.

Nora visibly relaxed as the needle emptied into her arm, meds working their magic almost instantly. Her breath evened out and she was able to stand a little straighter. “My hero.”

“I’m gonna remember that next time you’re givin’ me shit.”

Nora just grinned before planting herself face-first in Hancock’s chest. He tucked her head under his chin, arms around her shoulders, and held her until the last of her shivering began to ease.

Her hair smelled like blood, leather, and the dried tarberries she liked to mix into her soap, and for once Hancock was at a loss for words. He held her as close as he could, face buried in her hair, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. She was back, and it was only after seeing her again that he allowed himself to feel how much he’d missed her. Nick’s hand settled on Hancock’s shoulder, and when he caught Hancock’s eye his wry smile turned genuine.

“We missed you too, John.”

Hancock wrenched one hand free from Nora, grabbing Nick by the scruff of his threadbare shirt to pull him in for a kiss.

* * *

Nora was quick about finding that coffee, but even after two cups she could barely keep herself awake. Hancock stayed in bed with her as long as he could, pressing her back to his chest until he was sure her breathing was steady and her body was warm. He kissed her just behind her ear before detangling himself, gently as he could so as not to wake her.

Now that Nora was safe, it didn’t take long for Hancock to realize that Nick wasn’t at the top of his game either. Whether it was the cold or the blast or just the stress of being on the move, their three-week walkabout had taken its toll. Nick, of course, refused to admit it until the next morning when he nearly knocked his arm off stumbling into a wall. The notorious synth detective was gonna be out of commission for a while, and he wasn’t taking the news well.

“Is this really necessary, doc? Just patch me up and I’ll be on my way.”

“Monsieur Valentine, I do not think that will be possible.” Curie was crouched behind Nick’s neck, carefully checking the circuitry below his skin. “You have extensive damage to your contact and proximity sensors and you are in dire need of internal cleaning. Surely you recognize this?”

“I’ve been in worse shape.”

“True as that may be, it would be irresponsible for me to clear you for combat until you are fully functional. You put yourself at far too much risk.”

“Listen to the lady, Nick.” Hancock nudged Nick’s side as his scowl grew. “You know as well as I do that you’re gonna run headfirst into a raider den if you try to head out now.”

Nick sighed, fumbling with a cigarette. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Curie, I'll take it easy.”

“You are most welcome. I will return tomorrow, and we can begin your repairs.”

Nick tipped his hat to Curie as she left, and Hancock leaned into his side.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve taken my advice on anything.” Hancock grinned.

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Nick had finally managed to pull out a single cigarette, but handling the lighter was still a struggle.

“Who, me? Never.” Hancock took the cigarette from Nick’s hands, lighting it for him before passing it back.

Nick’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. Nora and I have been a bit off since coming back, haven’t we?”

“I ain’t one to judge. Would like to know what happened out there, though, if you wanna tell me.”

Nick paused, cigarette burning down between his lips. Hancock had seen him lost in thought before, but something was different this time. The light from his eyes, so often kind or piercing or some combination of the two, now just seemed to draw longer shadows across his face.

“Nora’s been doing me a bit of a favor,” Nick finally said. “And right now it feels like I’m doing a real crappy job of repaying her.”

Hancock scoffed. “Can’t be worse than the shit thanks she gets around here. What kinda favor?”

Nick paused, looking for the right words. Hancock knew that the two of them wouldn’t have been gone so long if it wasn’t important, but sitting here, watching Nick struggle, it set off some kind of feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“You remember a few years back, when I was talking about the real Nick Valentine?”

His first instinct was to tell Nick that he was the only Nick Valentine who mattered, but he bit back the impulse. Nick didn’t seem like he was in a real good place to hear it.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Does the name Eddie Winter ring a bell?”

Hancock thought back to those days in Diamond City, back when Nick was still trying to figure out if he was closer to a man or a machine. They’d sit together and talk sometimes, Nick sorting through the life that had been dumped inside his head while John waited out his latest withdrawal symptoms. Hancock did his best to sort through the headaches and hazy memories for any mention of the name.

“The crime boss, right? Real sonuvabitch?”

“That’s putting it mildly, but yeah, that’s the guy. If my intel is right, there’s a pretty good chance he’s still alive and kicking, all holed up in his bunker. Back before the war, he left ten holotapes out around the ‘Wealth as a present for the feds. I think if I get my hands on all of them, I can finally pin down that rat bastard.”

Hancock sat up straighter. This was something that had been messing with Nick’s head for at least a decade. “No shit?”

Nick nodded. “Only problem is the tapes aren’t exactly wrapped up under a tree waiting for us to find ‘em. Even if he didn’t know it, Winter made himself pretty hard to track down. But Nora, once I told her…. well, you saw her when she got back. We’ve been dragging our sorry asses up and down the ‘Wealth for weeks.” Nick’s voice grew bitter. “She’s run herself ragged just to lend me a hand.”

Hancock took Nick’s hand in his, squeezing gently. “You know Nora doesn’t do a damn thing that she doesn’t want to.”

“Believe me, I know.” Nick said. “Even still. She’s putting her cover with the Institute at risk for this. She’s still trying to put together a new safe house for the Railroad. And that’s not even getting into how long it’s been since we’ve seen you…”

Hancock’s throat tightened as Nick turned those neon eyes on him.

“S’alright,” he lied. “You know me, I get by.”

Nick just kept looking at him, their fingers still laced together. If he was wondering what was running through Hancock’s head, he was at least kind enough not to ask. 

“I thought about you all the time, you know,” Nick said. “Every day. We both did.”

Hancock bumped his elbow into Nick’s. “Sap.”

“Wiseass.” Nick bumped his elbow back. “But I just wanna be sure you know that I don’t like doing this either of you. Dragging her around, making you wait.”

“I’ll live. She will too.”

Nick sighed. “You know it’s not done, right? The hunt's still going.”

Hancock turned over Nick’s hand, tracing over Nick’s fingers with his own. “Anything I can do?”

“Keep yourself outta trouble?”

“No promises, old man.”

* * *

Nora slept for the next day and a half, waking up in the evening to the mother of all headaches. Hancock was ready for her with food and water, and he helped her get out of bed even as she insisted she wasn’t made of glass.

“I know you ain’t, Sunshine. Humor me.”

Nora smiled at him, and Hancock’s heart leapt into his throat.

The peace didn’t last long, of course, and soon every settler and their mother was knocking down her door. They told Nora about broken down water purifiers, missing supply lines, and the feral nest they’d found nearby. Nora, with all the patience of a saint, heard them all out one after another even as the gash on her head was still healing. Hancock glowered over her shoulder the whole time, trying his damndest to scare them off.

“Can’t these vultures give you ten minutes to get back on your feet?”

Nora turned to him. “I’m their General, and I’ve been MIA for the last three weeks.”

“Like they can’t keep their asses out of trouble for three weeks.”

“Cut them some slack, they’re just scared.” She looked out the window at the travelers passing by with something close to fondness. “Besides, it’s mostly just signing off on supply lines. I can send someone else out to deal with everything else.”

“You want me to handle anything?”

“Nah.” Nora leaned into his side, taking Hancock’s arm and placing it around her shoulder. “I need you right here.”

Hancock settled in next to her, careful to mind the bandage on her head. Nora claimed it didn’t hurt at all, but he wasn’t about to mess with things until Curie had another chance to look her over. She eased herself back into his chest before returning to her work, humming lightly as she scratched out her repair plans. He took in the smell of her hair, the sound of her voice, the feeling of her singing gently vibrating against his chest. He knew without a doubt just how lucky he was to be there.

But watching her bust her ass with her body still putting itself back together made his heart hurt all the same.

* * *

Patrols were feeling like more and more of a waste of time with the level of defense Nora had set up around the area. Anything out there with brains and bad intentions knew visiting Sanctuary was suicide, and anything without brains would be finding out the hard way. Hancock was pretty sure Preston had this figured out, but for some reason he still got stuck wandering out through the woods once a week looking for potential threats. Still, he wasn’t about to make things harder by getting pissy about it.

Although with the company he got stuck with this time, he might reconsider.

“I still can’t believe anyone would let scum like you around civilized society.”

Paladin Dick Weasel was making a big show of dragging his rusty ass around, staying at least ten feet away at all times and looking down his nose in Hancock’s general direction.

“Ain’t you supposed to be on the other side of town?” Hancock growled.

“So you can rip my throat out when I’ve got my back turned?”

“If I wanted you dead it wouldn’t matter which way you’re facin’.”

Danse harrumphed loudly, keeping his shovel jaw turned up and his eyes on Hancock’s back. He’d softened up a bit since finding out he wasn’t a thoroughbred human, but that mostly meant he’d stopped pointing a gun at Hancock whenever he walked by. 

“Why are you even out here?” Danse asked. “Shouldn’t you be looking after Nora?”

“Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but Nora’s a big girl. She doesn't need anyone to baby her.” Hancock pulled aside the edge of a bush with his shotgun, finding a whole lot more nothing behind it. “I’m more use to her if I’m pullin’ my weight.”

“If you call this pulling your weight, I’d hate to see you slacking.”

“Go fuck yourself, Danse.”

It wasn’t a comeback to be proud of, but Hancock was too annoyed to care at this point. The sooner he could be done and as far from Danse as possible, the better.

The two of them walked in silence for a while with Danse still stalking behind him, and no matter how much Hancock felt eyes prickling at the back of his neck he kept his mouth shut. Nothing under the bridge. Nothing out by the generators. Nothing behind their house, which Nora was still working on expanding. Nothing by Nora, who was already awake and training, shining with sweat as she pulled herself up and over the metal bar of the old swing set. She held herself there, shoulders tense, jaw set, ass tighter than the vault suit covering it, and Hancock allowed himself just a moment to be in awe of her.

And in just that moment, Danse’s rifle fired over his shoulder. 

Hancock hated dealing with feral ghouls under the best of circumstances, but it was even worse watching Danse get the jump on them. He shot them down gleefully, each step of his power armor causing the ground around them to shake, and when he got down to the last one he took the butt of his gun and smashed its face in. 

_Poor bastards._

Hancock watched the whole grisly scene unfold, his gun still cold and pointed to the ground. When Danse finally finished making mincemeat out of his prey, he cleaned himself off, glanced back at Hancock, and stalked off in the opposite direction without another word.

* * *

Nora was done training by the time Hancock got back, but that only meant that she’d moved on to conspiring with Deacon about the safe house. Hancock knew she’d let him in on it if he asked, but he didn’t have anything to contribute and playing the wall ornament was getting old. Curie was working on Nick again, and he always got weird about people seeing him with his skin off. Hancock was on his own. Which suited him just fine, as he had plans for once.

Going through Nora’s bags wasn’t the most moral choice, but Hancock wasn’t the most moral man and he figured she’d forgive him when all was said and done. He wasn’t exactly looking for her unmentionables, and what he was looking for wasn’t hard to find. 

Nora kept her holotapes well organized, all alphabetical with Eddie Winter’s collection right where it should be. She and Nick had already found eight of them, all labeled and kept in order. 

_Just two more left. Barely a challenge._

He checked through Nora’s notes, looking through the locations she’d crossed off. Natick, Nahant, Malden Center, Nick wasn’t kidding about dragging their sorry asses all over. It looked like they’d already located the last two as well… one in South Boston and one in Quincy.

Quincy, huh. Hancock was a little relieved he’d gotten to this one before Nick and Nora, they weren’t in any state to be dealing with that shit. 

He pocketed the notes (and a grenade or two for luck) before putting the holotapes carefully back where he’d found them. With any luck, no one would even notice anything missing until he got back. Nora would be occupied for a good long while, and Nick didn’t look like he’d be up to sleuthing anytime soon. Hancock was in the clear.

He slung his pack over his shoulder, careful to avoid Nora and Deacon and sneaking behind Nick and Curie. They’d just try to stop him if he let them know, as if he couldn’t handle this on his own. Maybe it’d been an off week or two, maybe he’d been getting soft sitting around Sanctuary too long. But he was vicious, he was lethal, and he wasn’t about to let the people he cared about keep running off and getting hurt while he sat on ass waiting to lose his goddamn mind.

Still, no need to have them worry too much.

“Hey, Codsworth!” Hancock watched the Mr. Handy swivel on axis, his aperture eyes adjusting to focus on Hancock's face.

“Mayor Hancock, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I got some business to take care of so I’m headin’ out for a little bit. Can you let Nick and Nora know?”

“Why of course, sir. But, surely they’d wish to see you off?”

“They got bigger things to worry about right now. Trust me, I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Very well, I shall let them know at once. Do look after yourself!”

“You too, Codsworth. Keep it real.”

And with a lighter heart and his thirst for righteous bloodshed renewed, Hancock turned tail towards Boston.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I can  
> Cause no one can stop me  
> Cause it makes up for things I've lost  
> To feel you tug at my soul  
> And the touch of your gaze over my face
> 
> -World/Inferno Friendship Society, Addicted to Bad Ideas


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is getting away from me a lil bit. Next chapter's the last one, for real.

Getting through the Southie Police Department was a cakewalk, but a satisfying cakewalk nonetheless. Hancock had gotten to wander by Andrew Station and enjoy some raider target practice, making up for the department building itself being pretty well undefended. Even inside it was empty save for the odd radroach, and the holotape he needed was just lying out in the open, waiting for him to snatch it up. He’d tucked it into the pocket of his coat, and every step felt a little lighter for it.

No use getting too comfortable, though. This was just the warm-up.

Hancock hadn’t been to Quincy since the Minutemen ran the show, but he knew the rumors well enough. Gunner’s paradise. Every sharpshooter worth talking about all holed up in one place, just sniffing around for fresh meat to butcher. With more time and more men he’d be looking forward to clearing out a place like this, but as it was, he would be happy just to get what he needed and get out.

He camped out for a while, waited for nightfall when cover would be easier to find. Charging right through the center was a surefire way to get his head blown off, so he'd scouted along the coast to plan a route and picked off stragglers where he could. There was one close call with a few creeps patrolling along the overpass, though he’d taken out most of them without much trouble. One big guy took a couple of extra shots, be he wasn't one to be stingy with his ammo.

The sun was starting to fade from the sky, orange glow reflected in the barrel of his freshly oiled shotgun. Shells? Check. Grenades? Check. Stims? Check. Just one last thing to take care of.

Hancock liked to get himself prepped early, especially if he was using home-brews he made on the road. He didn’t have a chance to shoot up back at Starlight, before the super mutants had rushed the place. Maybe that was why everything went to shit.

First came two tabs of buffout, enough for a solid high without too many nasty side effects if it wore off early. He waited a minute for them to kick in, taking more and more air in his lungs with each breath and exhaling with more force each time. Good. Next came the psycho jet, combined just hours ago at a chem lab near the station. He slid the needle into his arm with practiced accuracy, and the rush washed over him on the spot. His skin felt too tight for his body, the world roared to life around him, he was strong, fast, antsy, itching for the fight.

He gave himself one last minute to adjust before popping some mentats for clarity. All this junk could really mess with his head if he wasn’t careful, and he needed at least some kinda wits about him if he was gonna do this and get out alive.

He flipped through his pack one last time, taking out an extra inhaler for easy access later on.

_Alright. In we go._

Taking a breath to steady himself, Hancock crept to the edge of the city. He kept close to the corners of the ruined buildings, light on his feet and barely breathing to avoid drawing attention. Nothing around the corners, no one watching the streets. Even the old houses Hancock crouched behind looked like they'd been empty for a good long while. The only sign of gunners he could see were the crudely painted skulls staring him down from the surrounding walls.

The whole situation set Hancock's teeth on edge.

He did find one other sign of life nearby, a roaming spotlight slowly creeping in his direction. With quick scan of his surroundings Hancock decided to risk crossing the road, looking to the heavy shadows on the other side for cover. His feet hit the pavement, and the second they did Hancock knew it was a mistake.

“You hear that?”

Shit. Hancock scrambled back behind a wrecked old fence as three, no, four sets of footsteps started padding around right above him. They were on the rooftops. They knew he was nearby, and they had the high ground. He thought for a minute about turning tail and trying again in the morning, but before he’d had the chance he heard the signal. Two whistles on his right, two more on his left in response, and the search was on in full force. Hancock crouched low, hoping the fence and the darkness would be enough cover for now. 

“I heard it, must be close by. You think it’s the one who killed Baker?”

“Dunno, but they’d have to be pretty fucking stupid to stick around after that. You, kid, go tell Tessa we got company.”

A set of footsteps started descending from above, and Hancock fingers tightened around his gun. They came closer, then farther, then closer again—

“Got him, over there!”

_Shit._

The spotlight snapped to him, nearly blinding against the night sky, and in a split second Hancock moved to action. Between the chems and his natural reflexes he was fast, faster than any common gunner could hope to be, and he still had some of the element of surprise. He pulled the pins out of his grenades two at a time, chucking them to the left and clearing out the shitlickers who'd blown his cover. His heart beat in his ears and the air seemed to be rushing straight through him, but the footfalls stomping nearby still rang out loud and clear. Hancock pointed his shotgun up through the broken walls and fired twice, an animal’s grin on his face as he heard the shells hit their mark.

The grenades drew attention, though, and the rest of the town started calling to arms all at once. He’d have to move fast, get in and out before they had the chance to get him pinned. Throwing caution to the wind, he bolted forward towards the lights that marked the station.

Two on his right tried to come at him with tire irons, their movements almost comically slow in Hancock’s jet-addled mind. He wiped them out easy, one shot each to the face, and reloaded in time to take out a third. A stray bullet cut close to his shoulder, far too close for comfort, and then Gunner number four caught him with a second shot just above the elbow. Thanks to the chems, Hancock barely felt a thing.

_It’ll heal. Keep going._

He kept moving, but with his arm messed up his aim went downhill with it. He fumbled for the stim on his belt, driving it into his shoulder just above the bullet wound. Gunner five caught him again, but the stimpak was still working and the gash in his side healed almost as quickly as it had opened. He took out both the shooters with ease before slamming the butt of his shotgun straight down into gunner six's face. Bone cracked under his hands and blood sprayed across his jacket, and Hancock started feeling like he just might pull this off.

It was just about time to re-up on the jet when the street below him seemed to shake. He dodged for cover behind a small barricade, reloading again and trying to focus past the dope and adrenaline cocktail he was running on. He knew that noise, what was it?

The ground shook again, and then again, and it clicked.

Power armor.

Letting out a growl of frustration, Hancock turned towards the station just in time to see her running out. She stood eight feet tall with a temper to match, if the look on her face was any indication, and her every footstep shook rubble loose from the crumbling buildings around them.

_Nice to meet you, Tessa._

Hancock shot off two rounds, one after another, wondering just how useless it would be against an oversized tin can. Sure enough, the shot barely made a dent in her chestplate, but he got lucky and some of the spray made it up to her face. She staggered backwards for just a split second from the impact, choking on the stray lead. Hancock took advantage, firing a third and fourth shot towards her knee. Just as he'd hoped, her leg gave way and she staggered to a kneel.

The second she was down, Hancock bolted. By running after him Tessa left the station itself undefended, complete with a nice, wide opening to get in. He paused for a moment when he reached the doorway, looking back just long enough to see her getting up, turning around. He waited until she'd made eye contact to toss her one last present.

Rushing behind the nearest wall, Hancock both heard and felt the grenade explode behind him. The ground rattled again, hard enough to shake dust from the ceiling and walls, as he heard the unmistakable metallic thud of power armor hitting the ground. Bulls-eye.

As the dust settles he took stock of the station, heart still pounding and breathing frantic. It was only a matter of time before the next wave came through, he couldn’t afford to linger. And of course the tape he needed wouldn't be lying around in the open this time. Hancock ducked behind the first desk, pulling out drawers to investigate.

Paper. Pens. Folders. Files. More of the same in the next one over. Who the fuck had time to deal with this much paperwork? No luck with desk number three either, and nothing in any coat pockets, trash cans, or busted terminals. Hancock kicked over a filing cabinet in frustration, scattering useless notes on centuries-dead criminals across the floor.

He tried the basement holding area next, starting with the lockers. Third one in, he finally got lucky and picked a dusty holotape off the middle shelf. He turned it over to check the label.

_Eddie Winter #3._ Jackpot. 

And then he slammed face-first into the locker door.

Hancock tried to blink his vision clear, tried to catch his breath and spit some of the blood from his mouth—

The next blow threw him with so much force that his vision blacked around the edges. He tried and failed to stop himself before he hit the ground, gasped for air and found none, took stock of the the numbness spreading quickly through his chest and back. Something grabbed him by his coat, throwing him over to face the ceiling.

His eight-foot friend stood over him, snarling and dripping oil. Her face and hair were burnt well past skin deep and her armor was pretty worse for wear, but her eyes were as blown out at his and she was clearly still gunning for his head.

Hancock grinned, sucking blood through his teeth as he moved to taunt her. But when he opened his mouth, he still didn’t have any air to speak.

“Rads get your tongue, freak?” She laughed, sending an armored boot into his side. He coughed and gasped, pain sharpening with the movement and panic taking root in his mind.

The holotape was still clutched in his hand, and he gripped it as tightly as he could. She kicked him again, and he felt his ribs snap under the stress.

Hancock tried to think, tried to take inventory of his options but panic was setting in. The world sped up as she hit him again, threw him back into the lockers, knocked the stimpak out of his hand. 

His shotgun was over by the cells, still out of reach. A grenade clearly wasn’t an option, he’d blow himself to bits just to give her a few more scuffs and dings. He could go for the knife on his belt, but he still had the tape in his good hand. If he dropped it it’d get crushed, or lost, and Nick would lose whatever chance he had to make peace with himself.

He tried with his bad side, and even before his broken ribs stunted his movement he knew it was a stupid plan. He’d tried to swing for Tessa’s face, catch her at that sweet spot across her eyes, but his aim was wild at best and the knife bounced uselessly off her armor. She broke his arm for the trouble.

He’d fucked up. He fucked up the way he always fucks up, with dead settlers at Starlight and dead drifters in Goodneighbor and dead ghouls in Diamond City. He fucked up, and now he would never see Nora or Nick again.

Hancock thrashed, making a wild grab for his shotgun but only knocking it further out of reach as Tessa caught him by the coat again. She lifted him as if he was weightless, smashing him once, twice, again and again into concrete. He pulled the holotape close to his chest, shielding it with his body as best he could. Maybe he couldn’t bring it back to Nick himself, but he could at least make sure it didn’t get crushed alongside him. Nick and Nora already knew where to look for it, they’d find it easy enough if he could just keep it safe. And maybe, if he was lucky, there'd be enough of him left to bring back to Sanctuary.

His vision was clouding again, but not for pain or head trauma, and Hancock was relieved there was no one else around to see him like this. Crumpled in the hands of some two-bit sadist, busted up and crying… it was fucking embarrassing.

He’d wanted to see what kind of new world she would build. He’d wanted to help them build it. He wanted to help make something that was good enough for Nick, good enough for Nora, because they both deserved so much better than the life they got. 

Then he was upright again, with Tessa staring him down, and he vaguely realized that she had him by the neck. He tried to steel himself against the inevitable, tried to regain some kind of dignity even as he thought of the life he was leaving behind—

He didn't even say bye before he left. He should’ve told them he loved them. He should've told them every time he had the chance.

With one last burst of adrenaline and spite, he spit blood across her face.

Another volley of bullets hailed from somewhere higher up, and Hancock’s world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I have grown older and graver  
> The great heart of the world remains ever young  
> I wasn't always a monster, I was a prince  
> Now so broken, so...
> 
> -World/Inferno Friendship Society, Addicted to Bad Ideas


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So, I have no excuses.
> 
> Next one will be the end, for real? I hope?

_……_

_…No no no no no, get up, get up…_

_……_

_Careful! We don’t wanna move him too much—_

_Oh fuck, I don’t think he’s breathing…_

_Just, just stay calm—_

_……_

_……_

_Get him up, watch his neck—_

_……_

_Keep breathing. All you gotta do is keep breathing—_

_Don’t you fucking dare—_

_……_

_…don’t do this to me. You can’t do this to me. I can’t…_

_Please…_

_……_

_……_

_……_

* * *

If he’d died, this had to be hell.

He still couldn’t couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything past the blinding pain in his chest and arm, the pounding in his head and churning in his stomach, or the taste of blood in his mouth. It was loud, unbearably loud, with the sounds of machinery and rushing air grinding themselves to dust in his skull. It didn’t help that two people were in the middle of some kind of shouting match nearby, with each sharp, indecipherable word picking its way into the hollows of his eyes.

The holotape was still in his hand. Intact.

He tried to latch onto it, tried to focus on this tiny victory and not the agony of every other inch of his body, but before he could get his head to stop spinning the world was dark again.

* * *

If he’d died, this had to be heaven.

The world around him was soft, quiet, and his body was numb from head to toe. For the first time in a long time he felt something close to peace.

And there was music.

He recognized Nora’s voice, half-humming the lyrics idly the way she did when her mind was someplace else. Hancock saw Nick in his mind’s eye, the corners of his mouth turning up, hand extended, asking for a dance.

He tried to shift his back, tried to lift his fingers to shield the light from his eyes but his body might as well have been a brick of lead. Instead, he managed to clear his throat. Instantly, the singing stopped.

“Nick, Nick he’s awake.”

“I heard him. John? You in there?”

Hancock groaned, finally managing to squint his eyes only to close them again at the blinding light. The room was quiet now, quiet except for Nora’s shaky breathing and the hum of Nick’s cooling system. He felt the pressure of an arm snaking across his chest, then a head leaning on his shoulder. The smell of tarberry soap.

Nora’s breath was shaky at best, and he felt her shudder with every inhale. He tried to reach back to her, or do anything at all, but his body still wasn’t feeling too cooperative.

Instead, he tested his voice again and tried to speak.

“...why’d you stop singing?”

He sounded weaker than he liked, but the words were clear enough. Nora shifted against him, pulling back just a bit, hand still warm on his chest. He felt the softened plastic of Nick’s fingers on his arm.

Her breath hitched again, and the song wasn’t quite steady to start. 

“I say I’ll move the mountains

and I’ll move the mountains

if he wants them out of the way

Crazy, he calls me

Sure, I’m crazy

Crazy in love, I say.”

Her singing voice wasn’t perfect or even close to it, but there wasn’t a thing in the world Hancock would rather hear.

* * *

The next day or two was mostly a blur of bone setting, wound cleaning, and uncomfortable conversations. Curie was there at one point, Hancock was pretty sure of that… the poor doc needed a raise with the hell they put her through. She’d talked a little about the gruesome pre-war surgeries he might have needed once upon a time, though he hoped that was just his fever making up nightmares. Dogmeat had been around, too, sitting vigilant at the foot of his bed, tail thumping on the floor to announce every new visitor or passer by. And of course, there was Nora and Nick.

He’d saved the most uncomfortable conversations for last, clinging to whatever hope he had that he might be able to dodge them altogether. But based on the looks they were giving him now, the odds of that happening didn’t look so good. 

“So,” Nick started. 

Yeah, he wouldn’t be so lucky.

“First of all, how the hell did you guys find me?” Hancock asked.

“It wasn't exactly hard. Codsworth gave you up pretty quick, must have been about thirty seconds after you left. Turns out that sneaking off without saying goodbye can raise some alarms.” Nick’s voice carried a slight edge. “Then Nora saw that her notes on Winter were missing, and the rest is history.”

Hancock gave a humorless laugh, relieved that it didn’t hurt nearly as much as he expected. “An’ here I thought I was bein’ stealthy.”

“If you were planning on being stealthy, you probably shouldn’t have thrown in your lot with a detective and the most connected woman in the Commonwealth.”

Nick was right, just like always, and Hancock was feeling more and more like a jackass by the minute. Just like one of Nora’s idiot settlers, he’d gotten in over his head and needed a rescue. Nora and Nick had to put themselves in danger, yet again, for his stupidity. And now he could barely get up for a piss without help.

He sighed. “So you followed me.”

“It wasn’t really following.” Nora answered this time. “We tried to head straight for Quincy to cut you off, but obviously that didn’t work. Then the grenades started going off, so we followed the trail of dead gunners—”

“—and there was no shortage of them—” Nick interjected.

“—to the station. And to you.”

Nora’s voice was tense. The dark circles under her eyes seemed to have dug themselves a permanent home and her clothes were fitting looser than before. She took a breath before continuing.

“We threw everything we had at you, stims, chems...in the end we had to call a vertibird to get you out. The Knight who showed up was pretty pissed off about it, but we didn’t have much of a choice. Your neck...”

She covered her mouth, eyebrows knit tight and eyes to the floor. 

“Sunshine—”

Her eyes snapped to his, and Hancock could swear the room froze over. 

“Nora. I, uh…” He tried to consider his words carefully, treading lightly under Nora’s sharp stare. “I’m sorry for messin’ things up. I wasn’t tryin’ to put you through all that—”

“What _were_ you trying to do?”

That was a question he’d asked himself a lot since he woke up. What the hell was it that he was trying to do? Look after Nick and Nora? Prove he wasn’t a useless sack of shit? Whatever the answer was, he’d sure made a mess of it.

The silence had gone on too long, and Nora turned away again. With her jaw tight and her glare set straight ahead, she stood and left without another word.

Nick sighed. “Just… give her some time. It’s been a helluva week.”

Hancock fell back down into bed, ignoring the slight stab of pain as he hit the pillows. “All I’ve done is cause her problems, she’s got every right to be mad.” 

“She’s not mad.”

“She looked pretty mad.”

Nick glanced out the window at Nora’s retreating back. “She’s just trying to process things. You scared us, you know.”

Hancock stared bitterly at the ceiling of the worn-down house, taking in patches of sky through the holes in the paneling. He bit back the lump in his throat.

“I’m not saying that to make you feel bad,” Nick continued. “But I would like to know what exactly you were thinking, running headfirst into Quincy on your own. I didn’t take you for someone with a death wish.”

_He was lying on the floor, arm broken and useless, heart pounding against shattered bone. Knowing he’d never see Nora or Nick again, knowing the harrowing fear that followed..._

“I ain’t got a death wish.”

Hancock cursed his voice for cracking, eyes still focused on that bright blue sky. He felt the mattress dip as Nick sat next to him on the bed, felt his hand on his shoulder, but still he just watched the clouds go by above them. Nick didn’t need to see this. No one needed to see this.

“You still had Winter’s tape in your hand, you know. You were holding on so tight, we couldn’t get it away from you for days.”

Despite his best efforts, a few bitter tears got away from him. He felt Nick’s thumb on his cheek, feather-light as he wiped them away. 

“Nora—” his voice caught in his throat, and he paused. “You an’ Nora got all this heavy shit to do, all the time. It’s the weight of the world on your shoulders. Don’t get me wrong, you carry it well, but every time you take off all I can do is sit here and… fuck, where are my goddamn chems...”

Hancock looked for something, anything to numb with, even though he knew his stash was well out of reach at this point. Something had broken in his chest, less tangible than bone but painful all the same. He bared his teeth, snarling as if that could somehow scare the fear, the loneliness, the self-loathing all back into hiding, but the worse he fought it the more it seemed to grow.

“I thought I was done with the people I care about gettin’ hurt, but I can’t do shit about it. Hell, I can’t do shit for anyone. Dunno why either of you waste any time on me at all.”

“John—”

“Don’t try an’ patronize me, either. I know how bad I fucked up. I was tryin’ to make your life easier and look at me.” Hancock gestured to his chest, where his charred skin was still indented over freshly healing bone. “I couldn’t even manage a few goddamn gunners.”

“John, ten of the Minutemen’s highest ranking officers couldn’t handle that crew, and that was before they had a chance to sink their teeth into the land.” Nick’s voice had a hard edge to it now. “And you know damn well we’re not just wasting time with you. Wasn’t it you who said that Nora doesn’t do anything that she doesn’t want to do?”

Hancock scowled at the ceiling, lump still lodged firmly in his throat. He could feel Nick’s eyes on him, hear him whirring just a few inches away, but he knew if he so much as looked at Nick now the last of his defenses would be up in smoke. 

He heard the shift of fabric and the mattress moved again, and before Hancock could pull himself together enough to say anything Nick had laid out at his side. He reached one arm over Hancock to place his hat on the nightstand before settling himself in. They stayed together in tense silence for a while, Hancock’s eyes still stubbornly pointing up as Nick’s ambient hum quieted and then faded to silence. 

“I hope you know,” Nick started, his voice quiet. “If I had to choose, I’d let Winter live out ten lifetimes before I’d risk losing you. But lucky me, that’s not a choice I have to make. You see, I have a partner with a pretty serious talent for violence, and he pulled the last few puzzle pieces straight out of the biggest gunner stronghold in the Commonwealth.”

Hancock scowled. “I thought I told you, don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not. You got both the tapes back here in one piece and wiped out Baker plus twenty one of his men.”

Twenty one plus Baker, huh. Not the worst body count Hancock had ever had, not by any means. The dam was still broken and his self-loathing was out at full force, but with Nick’s voice in his ear it all felt just a little further away.

Hancock finally turned to face him, catching those neon eyes. Nick's smile was soft, and for the first time since he'd been back Hancock really knew that he was home.

“I love you. I know I don’t say it enough, but trust me, I’m thinkin’ it all the time.”

“I love you, too.” Nick smiled. “Just... don’t go pulling a stunt like that again.”

“World like this, you know I can’t promise that.”

Nick’s brow creased, his smile fading. “I guess you’re right. Well then at least promise me that next time, you won’t try it alone.”

Hancock closed his eyes. He’d been awake for nearly five hours at this point, much longer than he was used to since getting back, and this whole ordeal had taken more out of him than he’d realized.

"I won't." Whether it was sincere or not Hancock wasn't sure, but he didn't have the energy left to worry.

* * *

By the time Hancock woke again, the sky was dark and full of stars, and his bed was empty. He tried not to be disappointed. It wasn't that he expected Nick to stay into the night considering sleep was off the table for him, but against all his better instincts he’d hoped that Nora might have come back. 

And then he remembered that sharp stare, the set of her jaw as she left the room. Just the thought of it had his skin crawling. How many days had she been stuck chasing after him, dragging him out of the city, nursing him back to health like a goddamn baby bird? He snarled his frustration and pressed his hands over his eyes, nails biting into his skin of his forehead as if he could claw the thoughts out by sheer force of will. 

_What I wouldn’t give for a few hits of jet._

Under the current circumstances, Hancock would consider this enough sobriety to last a lifetime. He'd had days now to lie in bed and review each miserable memory over and over, picking apart all the things that had gone wrong, and not so much as a single mentat to take the edge off. With much more effort than he would have liked, Hancock braced himself against the bed frame as he lifted himself up, back stiff and muscles straining after days of disuse. His legs felt weak as he lifted them off the bed, and he made sure to test his weight on each one before standing.

_Good enough._

His first few steps were shaky, but evened out pretty quick. He reached for his hat, slung his coat over his shoulders… and then his legs gave out, sending him crashing down onto his increasingly fragile rear end.

From the other side of the wall, something, or someone, alerted to the noise. He heard the footsteps coming closer, out of sheer instinct he lunged for his shotgun—

Nora stood in the doorway, frozen, panic written all across her face. Anxious silence filled the room as they stared each other down, each of them stock-still and out of breath. Hancock gently lowered his gun back to the ground, but he wasn't about to be the one to break the ice.

Eventually, Nora moved first.

“I, uh…” she hesitated. “I heard you fall. You okay?”

He checked himself over. “Nothin’ hurt but my ego, ‘s far as I can tell.”

Her face was still tight with worry, Nora extended a hand to help him up.

_That has to be a good sign, right?_

Hancock took the offered hand, letting her pull him back to his feet. She stumbled as she lifted him, moving him just a bit too far towards her and catching herself on the doorframe before steadying them both. Even after she was sure he could support his own weight, her hands stayed pressed to his chest.

“What are you doing up?” Coming from her, it sounded like an accusation.

“I needed a stretch, an’ a fix. Been sober a bit too long for my tastes.”

She sighed, digging through the pouch on her belt before slapping a tin of mentats into his hand. “I had a feeling. Don’t tell Nick.”

He grinned, popping two in his mouth without hesitation. That was Nora, thoughtful even in a fight, or whatever it was that was happening between them. Whatever it was, he was ready for it to be over. If anyone ever so much as mentioned Quincy or Tessa again it would be too soon. And she was so close, it would be so easy to just reach out and run his fingers through her hair. So close, soft but solid, cheeks red and hands warm along his collar... and her breath absolutely reeking of whiskey.

“You been drinkin’, sister?”

She scowled. “Just a little. You’re not… you’re not the only one sick of being sober.”

“I ain’t seen you drink since—” _Since you first got back from the Institute._ “Well, ‘s been a while.”

She shrugged, swaying gently with the motion. “I need to relax.”

He eyed her as she pitched from side to side. “S’pose I can’t be one to judge, but I think you oughta sit down for a minute.”

She shrugged again, stabilizing on her feet, and Hancock was relieved to see she wasn’t _completely_ shitfaced. She braced herself against him, and while he wasn’t quite sure if he was helping her or she was helping him the two of them somehow made their way back to the bed. Tipsy or no, Nora fussed until Hancock let her check him over, making sure his fall hadn’t knocked anything out of place.

“I’m still in one piece, for the most part.”

Once she was satisfied that he was intact, Nora sat at his side. Hancock hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder, heart sinking when she shrugged it away.

“I think…” she paused, collecting her thoughts. “I think we probably ought to talk.”

He was tired of talking, even though he knew she was right. He kept his eyes to the floor and hands to himself. After a moment, Nora continued.

“When we got to Quincy station, that lowlife was busy trying to loot you. She thought you were dead already. So did I.”

Her shoulders shook, arms tense and rigid as she braced against the bed. Hancock didn’t dare speak up.

“I thought...I thought that you...” Hancock could hear her breath shaking, her weak attempts to steady herself. “I didn’t get why you’d run off alone like that. I wanted to know what I should have done differently. If I missed something, if I could have stopped you.”

He turned to her, heart aching. “This ain’t your fault, sunshine.”

“We left you here for so long—”

“I said, it ain’t your fault.” He wanted so badly to touch her, but still didn't know if he could. “I dodged you on the way out ‘cause I knew if I saw you, you’d talk me out of leavin'. There’s nothin’ you could have done.”

She turned to the ceiling, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. "I can't lose you. I don't know what I'd do."

He had nothing to say to that. Just as he'd never had a reason to fear death before, he'd never had anyone who would grieve after he was gone. 

Nora collected herself with a whiskey-drenched sigh. “Nick told me about your talk earlier.”

“Yeah? What’d he say?”

She gave a weak smile. “That you were trying to be a hero, and you feel like you’ve got something to prove.”

"Bullshit. I never said hero.”

That got a hiccuping laugh out of her, and the sound of it had Hancock feeling a little lighter.

“Alright, whatever you call it, you and your _unbelievable_ lack of self-preservation instincts were trying to look out for Nick and me." She paused. "You put yourself at risk so we wouldn’t have to.” 

She finally broke that touch barrier, resting her hand on top of his. He wasted no time, threading his fingers with hers and holding tight. 

“I already told Nick, I’m not out to cause you more problems. But I can’t stomach sittin' around when you’re comin’ home hurt all the time. Not if there’s somethin’ I can do about it.”

“Then I guess we’re at an impasse.” Nora said. “Because I hate dragging you into fights that aren’t yours.”

“ _That's_ why I’ve been on the bench so long?” 

Nora nodded. “Nick needs to do this, for his own peace of mind. But I’m not…” she took a breath to steady herself. “I don’t want you both in the line of fire, not if I can help it. It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it, I just feel better knowing that at least one person I care about isn’t about to get shot up.”

Hancock would have laughed at the irony if it didn’t leave such a bitter taste in his mouth. “Guess I owe you an apology.”

“I think I owe you a few apologies.” She leaned into his side.

With only a little hesitation, Hancock wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She allowed it, embraced it even, and he felt a weight lift off his chest.

They sat together for a while, taking in the cool night air and the faint sounds of brahmin hooves in the distance. Feeling more confident, Hancock began to play with her hair, only to stop just short of the wound by her temple.

“Did you shave your head?”

“Oh! I’d almost forgotten.” She pulled her long hair to the side, revealing the soft stubble and freshly healed scar underneath. “You’d left before I could show you. My hair kept getting in the way of it healing, so Curie and I shaved it down a bit. Does it look okay?”

“Better than okay.” He ran his fingers along her head, appreciating the velvet feel. “You look sexy as hell.”

Her smile turned shy, and Hancock felt a little glow of pride knowing he could still make her blush. 

“Yeah, I think I like it.” She played with the ends of the stubble, just by her ear. “Even with the scar. I feel a little more like a native now.”

Hancock grinned. “Call it a Commonwealth rite of passage.”

She shook her hair back into place, making a bit more of a show of it than she needed to. Even though her eyes were still red and her balance wasn’t quite where it should be, Hancock could see the tension leaving her bit by bit.

“So… we’re okay?” Hancock asked.

“Yeah, we're okay." Nora smiled. "I’m just happy you’re home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I can  
> Cause no one can stop me  
> Cause it makes up for things I lost  
> Because I'm addicted to bad ideas, and all the beauty in this world


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I've rewritten this epilogue three times now.  
> Does it cover everything I wanted it to? No.  
> Does it fully make sense? Eh :/  
> Is it wildly self-indulgent? Absolutely. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Being back on the road was harder than it used to be, but Hancock sure wasn’t gonna complain. Maybe he wasn’t at the top of his game and maybe the going had been a little slow, but Nick and Nora were patient as anything and seeing them in action was worth the wait. After all the time they spent traveling together the two of them came together like a well oiled machine. Nick’s sharp eyes could pick up danger coming from pretty much any direction, and Nora's aim was something to marvel at. Watching them move as two halves of a whole was almost nice enough to take Hancock’s mind off his own questionable competence.

It had taken three more stims plus a day’s rest for him to start walking without tripping over his own feet, and then a few more days after that before he could steady a gun. Considering he’d looked like one of the meat piles outside Fallon’s a few weeks ago Hancock knew he should be grateful, but every second he spent lying in bed was another second Nick and Nora had wasted stuck in Sanctuary. He didn’t want to hold them back when there was a mob boss that needed gutting, so as much as it killed him to do it, Hancock had offered to keep his place on the bench.

“Not a chance.” Nick said, and his tone hadn’t left any room for argument. “If I’m really gonna do this, I’ll need the both of you with me. Besides, didn’t you say you already wiped out most of Andrew Station?”

Hancock didn't exactly believe him, but with the thought of waiting another who-knows-how-long for them to come back looming over his head he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

So here he was, making use of some extra space in Hangman’s Alley on the way to settle a 200 year old vendetta. Nick had suggested they stop to rest and resupply, since who knew what Winter had been working on over the past few centuries.

With all the time and resources Nora had poured into the settlement, it had grown to stand above the pre-war buildings surrounding it. String lights and neon lit the lower floors, which always seemed to bustle with traders and drifters and even the music. The higher floors were slightly quieter, a bit less bright, meant to be a safe space to sleep, or bathe, or even just regain some kind of privacy. And all the way at the top, Hancock found a small deck. From the edge of the guardrail he could see over the Fens, past the bridge on the Charles to the city beyond.

Up here, with the radio playing and the lights from Cambridge dotting across the horizon, all the threats waiting below seemed distant and small.

“Not bad, right?” Nora leaned along the guardrail next to him, doing her best to hide a proud smile. “I had some new plans drawn up since the last time you were here.”

“Ain’t seen a view like this in a long time,” Hancock said. “A guy could get used to it.”

“Don’t get used to it just yet.” She looked out across the skyline, her face shining golden from the lantern light to their side. “Someday, when it’s safe enough, I’m going to build this place all the way up to the sky.”

“What, like Diamond City?”

Nora shook her head. “Like Hub 360. On a clear day, you’ll be able to see all the way to the harbor.”

Not for the first time, Hancock wondered if he would ever see the same city that Nick and Nora did. What had it been like, walking up to Hub 360 unarmed? Nora had told him a little about the Old State House and the doe-eyed eggheads that used to look after it, but it all just seemed too far-fetched to believe. Still, if there was anyone who could build a tower to the sky that was safe enough to live in, it was Nora.

“You’ll need a hell of a lot more steel than this.” Nick’s voice cut in as he joined them, lighting a cigarette as he looked out on the city. “And probably someone who knows how to prop it up so a strong wind won’t blow it over. You know 'architect' isn't a real popular career path these days?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Nora said, a slight smile still on her face. “You ready for tomorrow?”

Nick sighed, looking out across the horizon. “I thought I was. Now that it’s actually happening… well, we’ll just have to see.”

“Not gettin’ cold feet, are you?” Hancock edged closer to Nick, just close enough to brush elbows. 

“Nah, nothing like that.” Nick took a long drag of his cigarette. “Even if I’d never met Eddie Winter before, a man like him needs to be put in the ground. I just don’t know whether or not it’s gonna fix anything, when this is all said and done.”

Worry and grief came standard for Nick Valentine, but that didn’t make Hancock like seeing it any better. He saw the stress drawing familiar lines on Nick’s forehead, spreading its roots in the set of his jaw and his clenched hands on the edge of the balcony. Not knowing what to say, Hancock wrapped his arm around Nick’s shoulder, hoping the gentle pressure might bring him back to the present and the people with him. And then he got a rude reminder that his med-x had worn off and his recently broken arm didn’t like to move in that direction.

Even though he tried to hide it, Nick caught his flinch instantly. “You really oughta be sitting down. There’s no way all that walking hasn’t gotten to you.”

“Nothin’ gets to me, brother. I thought you knew that.” Hancock said, grinning through the lingering stiffness in his shoulder. Once his arm started misbehaving the rest of his body wanted to catch up, and he leaned more weight into the guardrail to hide the slow ache making its way through his back and side.

Nick exhaled a cloud of smoke, his face impassive. He scanned Hancock over in silence, judging him from head to toe before catching eyes with Nora over his shoulder. Hancock turned, curious, but before he could figure out what Nora's thumbs up might mean Nick’s arm slid behind his knees and shoulder and he was lifted clean off his feet.

“Oh c’mon, this ain’t necessary.” Hancock growled. “You two really wanna embarrass me like this?”

“Yep.” Nora planted a kiss on his cheek. “This was the deal. We want you with us, but only if you let us look out for you when you need it.” 

“And don’t bother arguing, we know you need it.” Nick’s low voice vibrated through his body, soothing against his sore arm and back. Even as his instincts railed against it and he did his best to maintain a scowl, Hancock found himself relaxing ever so slightly into Nick’s solid form. With his ear so close to Nick, Hancock could hear his electric hum and the rhythmic thump of moving pistons, as soft and stable as a heartbeat.

_Okay, maybe this isn’t the worst thing in the world._

Hancock did his best impression of a blushing virgin as Nick laid him down on the bed, causing Nora to snort her laughter and nearly drop the lantern she was trying to douse. Even as Nick feigned frustration Hancock could see those worry lines of his start to ease, the slightest upturn of his lips giving away that he wasn't half as annoyed as he claimed to be. Nora switched off the radio before sliding into bed next to him, and Nick pulled up a chair and a book by their side.

So Hancock wasn’t back on the road quite the way he’d like to be, at least not yet. He’d get there one day, as sure as Nick would get to killing Winter and Nora would get to dealing with the Institute. In the meantime he’d let Nick and Nora fuss over him if it made them feel better, and they’d keep him along for the ride even if he wasn’t quite up to pulling his weight. Maybe he'd be a little more careful when he was out and about, and maybe Nora would have him out and about more often. No one could protect anyone else in the wasteland, but that didn't mean they couldn't let each other try. 

“Hey.” Even Hancock’s whisper seemed loud in the dark silence around them. 

“Hmm?” Nick’s firefly eyes turned his way and he felt Nora roll to face him.

“Love you, both of you. Just wanna be sure you know that.”

He could feel Nora’s smile as she leaned in to kiss his cheek, while Nick took his hand and lifted it to press to his lips.

“Love you, too.”

He'll tell them every chance he has, every day that he can, because any time could easily be the last. No one could protect anyone in a world like this, least of all themselves, but long as his life meant something to them he would always, always try.


End file.
